No Good Deed
by SheWolfe7
Summary: Companion Story to GI. Behind every powerful leader, is an equally powerful and trusted companion. In Anastas' case, he has no choice but to place his trust in the only being that has vowed never to abandon him- the frightening inner demon that would lead


Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or co

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or co. they are owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros and her publishing co. They own the characters, I own this particular plot. I'm not making any money off of this, no malice intended, no infringement intended and so on etc. Also, if this is similar to any other fanfics, it was not intentional. As per usual, any original characters, theories about magic and anything not already known to JKR's HP world or general fandom is mine. Please ask before borrowing.

**Warnings:** Violence, Graphic Sex, Torture and/or Gore, Death, Drugs, Language, and SLASH, which for the uninitiated is male on male sex!

If any of the above squick you, please save me and everyone else a flaming review and hit the back button and find something better suited to your tastes. No one's forcing you to read this, don't like it then don't read it!

**Synopsis: **Companion Story to GI.Behind every powerful leader, is an equally powerful and trusted companion. In Anastas' case, he has no choice but to place his trust in the only being that has vowed never to abandon him- the frightening inner demon that would lead him further into temptation.

**READ THIS CHAPTER: ****BEFORE**Chapter 6 of 'Good Intentions'

**A/N: **This chapter is incomplete. I really wanted to complete it before I posted GI 6 but unfortunately, that did not happen. Sort of a cliffhanger ending and I apologize for that but I'll pick up where I left off in the next chapter.

Text Formatting:

'Character thoughts'

Emphasis, Article Heading

_Foreign words, spells, letters, media text (newspaper/books)_

- _Parseltongue_ -

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No Good Deed

By: SheWolfe7

Prologue:

Memory

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I made a mistake. It wasn't the first time and probably would not be the last but how I hoped this would be the end!

My Host is a strong mortal. Even before we joined, he was something more than all the other mortals I had ever known. In terms of power, there were few who could compare but even he had his weaknesses as all mortals do and his greatest was his fear of being alone. I have learned a great deal about mortals throughout the endless years since I was first created and, though I would not claim to be an expert, I would dare say that I have at least a passing understanding of mortal motivations.

The vast majority of mortals who opened themselves to my power often did so hoping to gain power. In this even my Host does not differ. He too came seeking power but unlike the thousands who had come before him, he was worthy. In the past world, the Host never questioned the reason for my existence and in the current world he is under a misconception about our coexistence. The Creator had granted me life to serve a singular task, to find one worthy of becoming a Host. I was not the only one created to serve such a purpose and I am fairly certain that I am not the only one who did not follow the assigned rules. The Creator, for all their unrivaled mastery of the mysteries, simply could not have predicted what would result from too much contact with mortals. Or perhaps it had and simply wished to observe how each of us were changed, who is to say? Regardless the Creator and their intentions are a moot point now, we are gone away from that world and those circumstances.

Through the years as I waited for my Host, I gained a better understanding of mortals as my own inherent powers matured. After my Host and I were joined, that understanding deepened further as I came to learn of him. Free from the vessel that had held me I took great delight in immersing myself in my Host. My presence within him was like that of the very blood that flowed in his veins and yet, I was more. He was fragile even then and I admit, the more I enhanced him, the more fragile he became.

That is why I say that my Host is incomparable. Even with all the stress he faced daily for several years he managed, with my help, to hold onto his sanity until the very end. It was only after he gave himself to me that he finally broke and it is to my never ending despair that it was I who broke him. Accidentally, yes but nevertheless, it was I who broke him.

The guilt, the shame and the overall horrors of the war were devouring him with every passing minute of every day and I was too impatient, too careless. His mindscape was a decrepit crypt filled with darkness, cobwebs, dust, grime and the rotting corpses of the dead. In the beginning, I focused my time on clearing away the rotting corpses which represented the horrors that he had both seen and committed. It was an endless task and while I was so absorbed with it, I had neglected to see to the dust and grime until one day, the crypt collapsed. In the physical world, he went on a mindless rampage slaughtering people with no rhyme or reason. In response to this sudden, unexpected collapse I panicked and wiped away all of his memories.

It was the worst mistake that I have **ever** made.

With no sense of identity and no memories, the Host was like a puppet with its strings cut. Now I was faced with an even more horrifying task, I had to rebuild my Host's mind from nothing and keep his body alive in the meantime. This was beyond Herculean, greater by far than the simple words 'life-altering'. I, who had life but no substance, now had to give substance in order for my Host to have life!

A dozen years passed before I grew accomplished enough to divide my attention, a smaller part of me keeping his body alive while the rest focused on rebuilding his mind. During those twelve years, I spent much of them deliberating about what I would do. The easiest would be to cut my losses and take his body for my own and the more difficult would be to rebuild him. Though truthfully, there was only ever one option in my mind. So I rebuilt him. When my first attempt did not work, I wiped his memory again and started over. I lost track of time during these years. All I knew was that I myself was changing and growing, while I held his body in complete stasis. I couldn't understand where I was going wrong, I was creating entirely new identities, complete alternate facets that might have been him in another world and another time but none of them were the one that I had loved. None of them were the one that I had chosen to be my Host. None of them were worthy.

The answer came to me suddenly then. It was so obvious I don't know why I hadn't seen it before! The reason why none of the other incarnations of him had fit me was because none of those incarnations were him. Experience was what made a person after all, right? It had been stupid of me to try and rebuild a version of him without all the tragedy and strife. I may have erased his original memories years and years ago but I had some of his memories too. All I would have to do was alter them and imprint them back into his mind. Foolishly, I thought it would be easier than it had actually turned out to be. It was anything but easy in the end.

It took me hundreds of attempts and millions of minor alterations before I was able to create a version of him that was as close to the original as could be created and be relatively stable. My Host, the one whom I chose and the one whom I love, would never be whole in mind, much as I wished otherwise. After all that he had experienced the fact that he survived was a testament to his stubborn will and my meticulous alterations to his body.

Recently I caused some damage to him when I allowed him to remember that he is not all that he once was and now I can never let him remember that again. It pains me that he can't ever know how devoted I was to him or how he depended on me but he is the only reason I exist and I will never give him up. I love him and though he does not have the same relationship with me as the original, I will always be a part of him as he is a part of me. It was better that he forget me, the life we once had, and the being I once was, than for him not to exist at all.

Perhaps this will be the last grave mistake I will make, I hope it is so. It would destroy me to have to start again. Every imperfect incarnation of him has caused the vibrancy of his life in those captured memories to fade bit by bit in my vast memory. Failure is no longer an option. Barely a spark of brilliance remains in those memories and I cannot bear to see them go completely hollow of life.

That would be the end of us both.

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During the few hours when he is asleep and completely unaware, I devote my time to meticulously checking his mindscape and repairing any damage or wear. It is a never ending cycle, one that I would probably never be free of, despite what I imply. Based on our connection, I know that he thinks that I am attempting to convince him to 'yield himself' to me so that we may join together. After such a joining he thinks that my presence will become dominant to his and thus I will be at liberty to pursue my own nefarious agenda. Sadly, that isn't my intention at all but it's easier to think that I'm letting him use me in order to get something from him.

Not to say that I haven't pondered a few intricate plots, mostly centered around finding a way to enjoy the physical demonstrations of love, all involving my Host of course. Despite spending years pondering and scheming, I still haven't found a way but I can always hope.

Lost to my fantasies, I nearly pass by a fraying strand of memories. Without hesitation I grasp the strand and immerse myself in the memory.

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BEGIN MEMORY

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The lower he went down the stairs, the clearer the sound of lapping water became. Harry paused a little after the midpoint of the staircase and stared. This entire level looked partially flooded and he was not looking forward to finding out what was in that murky water. Harry continued his descent, warily watching as glowing runes appeared on the ceiling, allowing him a better glimpse of the next challenge he faced.

At the foot of the stairs, was a large landing. Harry remained on the stairs and pondered what to do next. Glancing around the room, he could not see any doorways which meant only one thing…wherever the exit was it certainly wasn't **above** the water. Taking out another Golem Gambit, he activated it and attached a viewing spell on it before ordering it into the water. There was no way he was going into that water until he knew it was monster free. The chamber was huge, at least the size of an Olympic swimming pool and nearly eighty feet deep.

There were no sunken archways or tunnels this time and no obvious clue about what he was supposed to do to proceed. Harry cast a variety of revealing charms around the room but nothing changed. After a fruitless hour spent casting spells and searching for clues, Harry reluctantly cast a Bubble-Head Charm and entered the water. Barely a minute after he entered the water, the stairs began to crash down into the water, pulled by some strange force. Harry cast a Shield Charm on himself to buffer the crashing waves of water that was throwing him around like an ant caught in a downpour. Several times he narrowly avoided being smashed to bloody ruin by the individual stair steps which he guessed were now serving some new purpose.

After he had crawled back onto what had been the landing at the bottom of the staircase, the water had begun to drain out of the room revealing what the stone stairs steps had done. They had formed small four foot by four platforms which hung suspended in the air. It was obvious his only choice was to go down so he had jumped across to the closest platform which immediately began to crumble. Thinking the purpose of the test was to keep moving, Harry had scrambled for the nearest platform and learned a most unpleasant thing.

Not all the platforms crumbled. Oh no, it got much **worse**.

As though jumping around like a fucking rabbit was not bad enough! Some of the platforms gave a mild shock on contact, some turned into water or vanished, others became coated with ice which sent him sliding off and, as he learned when he had fallen, some of the goddamned platforms were invisible! By the time he set his feet on the solid ground at the bottom of the room, he now had great sympathy for those poor video game heroes in those stupid adventure/puzzle games.

Carefully lowering himself to the floor, Harry dug through his bag for some Healing Potions. It was a damned miracle he hadn't broken his neck or cracked his head open falling on those stupid invisible platforms. All he had to say was that this stupid weapon had better be worth all the trouble coming to Rasha'ule had ended up being! Bill's death was bad enough, but he couldn't afford to make a misstep and get killed by one of the stupid traps. If he died the Order would fall apart and Voldemort would crush the world beneath his scaly feet.

Once he regained the energy to move, Harry gave his wand a try and was relieved to see that it was now working again. Of course, it would have been an unfair advantage to be able to use magic while he made his descent through the floating platforms of doom. At least there hadn't been any spikes at the bottom of the room, though falling eighty to twenty feet onto a solid stone floor would have likely killed a wizard anyway. There was only so much Healing Potions could do after all.

Girding himself, Harry clambered back to his feet and headed for the only exit. The archway led to yet another long, narrow hallway. Harry quickly drew his sword and wand up and cautiously made his way through the hall. At the end of the hallway was a small chamber, containing only a pedestal upon which a small metal chest perched. Casting several spells, Harry could not detect any traps, curses or hexes waiting to be unleashed. A new Golem Gambit did not set anything off either and with much relief; Harry stepped into the room and paused in front of the pedestal.

"This is too damned easy," Harry muttered, glancing around nervously. "After all those damned traps, there's no way in hell taking this weapon should be this easy."

"You did well to make it this far but if you take that weapon you will die."

Harry whirled around, looking for the speaker. "Who are you and where are you?"

A ghost floated down through the ceiling. It was a man, dressed in elaborate robes, with long hair and a beard. "The weapon is an abomination, a devourer of souls! If you dare to wield it, you will only be destroyed like countless others!"

"How do I know that you aren't lying?"

The ghost smiled bitterly. "What reason would I have to lie? What would I gain by warning you from taking this weapon? That abomination has tempted our kind for eons! Wizards and Witches, Lords of Light and Darkness, Magical Beings of all species and even the odd non-magical human– from around the world they have attempted to master that peerless weapon…and every single one simply vanished as though they had never existed! Let the master-less weapon sleep forgotten by the world and be thankful that you yet live and breathe."

Harry scowled, "I didn't come this far just to turn back! Even if this weapon destroys me, it would not change my fate. If I return empty handed, I will only meet a worse death."

"I cannot bear to watch another fool die." The ghost commented soberly, shaking his head as he walked away.

Slowly Harry unlatched the chest and pushed back the lid. Inside the chest was a thick, bloodstained book bound in what looked to be dragonhide. This was the peerless weapon?

Frowning, Harry reached into the chest and pulled out the book. Spider like writing was scrawled across the cover. It simply read:

_Potentia_ _Absolutus_

"Absolute Power?" Harry muttered curiously before opening the book. For an instant, all he saw was a blank page of parchment and then the world began tilting wildly. As his body fell over and unconsciousness loomed over him, he could hear a voice. The words were faint, growing louder as his eyes began to close.

_- My vigilance has finally been rewarded! I will give you power that only gods have dreamt of, my fated one! Give yourself to my care and no enemy will stand before you! Yield to me…yield __**only**__ to me…_ -

For several heartbeats he hovered on the edge of awareness. Dimly he remembered the warning Mrs. Weasley had given Ginny after the Chamber of Secrets fiasco. Could he trust this thing? But then…what choice did he have? With each day, they came that much closer to losing the War. If this thing could give him power, what was his soul worth weighed against all the lives he could save?

As he slipped into darkness, he gave himself up willingly. Whatever the price, it was worth it for Voldemort's death and the safety of the Wizarding World.

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END MEMORY

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With displeasure, I jolted back into my Host's mindscape. Yet another memory featuring me that was beginning to fray and, to my dismay, it was one that I had barely modified. In fact, the only modification was tacking on that final comment which was one that I made sure to repeat often to the Host to keep up the charade. I knew of course why the memories about me were fraying, that was all due to my earlier miscalculation, but by now it should have stopped affecting him.

Almost absently I began to repair the memory and when I finished, I was startled to note that my Host had awoken from his sleep. This was new but then, it was the first time in a long while that I had had to repair this particular version of my Host. After two years of stability, I had taken the chance before me and dragged us across the stream of alternate universes until we arrived here in this world. Exhausted, I could only trust in the years I spent creating my Host's memories and hope that he could survive until I regained my strength.

When I woke, he was safely under the protection of Evaristo Torres. Much to my shock, I learned that the Seer had known of us and our arrival several years prior to our appearance. Later that night, well after my Host had lost awareness, I jolted awake and in full control of my Host. It was a familiar circumstance. I was often given control when my Host was asleep and with his increasing dependence of me as the War neared its close, he had started giving me control during his waking moments. Usually when he was too exhausted to think and react properly.

It was the first time that I had control of his body since we had arrived in this new world and it was the first time that someone had spoken to **me**.

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So, there's the whole story if Not-Friend can be trusted to be telling the truth of course!

Please review.

-SheWolfe7 (4-19-08)


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